


Reunion

by explodingnebulae



Series: Vampire!Agatha [2]
Category: Dracula (TV 2020)
Genre: Blood Drinking, F/M, Historic Event Mention, Oral Sex, Vampire!Agatha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:26:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23932264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/explodingnebulae/pseuds/explodingnebulae
Summary: "The question caught her off guard, stunning her into the silence that he had been in moments earlier. Her mouth opened but no sound made its escape, no words, no explanation. Nothing. Silence. How could she tell him?"Fifty years. It had only taken fifty years to figure him out. However, Agatha had not anticipated the cost at which her discovery would come.
Relationships: Agatha Van Helsing - Relationship, Dracula & Agatha Van Helsing, Dracula - Relationship
Series: Vampire!Agatha [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1723690
Comments: 5
Kudos: 84





	Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> I am having an absolute BLAST writing this series so far and I hope you all enjoy this installment. Incoming Drama™

Fifty long years, two world wars, a pandemic, stock market crashes, and more bloodshed than she thought possible…

Yet all of that was forgotten as she stepped onto the beach once more, the Sun falling behind her as it slipped to the other side of the world. Agatha looked out into the water, her mind awash with too many complications, too many variables, too many unsaid words. Her right index and middle finger idly played at the ring on her left hand. She found through time that it was something to keep her grounded when her anxieties grew. 

The one who had granted her extended existence rested in the waters below, silent and unmoving for half a century. She could have cursed him for taking so long, had cursed him in the worst of her nights, fought to wake him as he dreamed. Agatha had called to him when she had needed him, but received no answer. He was a ghost in the shadows of her memory, it seemed. 

Until she stepped into the sunlight and began to put together the pieces of the puzzle. She knew why he had taken his time that night, as the sun rose behind the clouds, why he wanted her to live, why he stalked the night. Agatha had at last started to know him. 

He was not the proud warlord she had met at the convent, the feral beast that maimed and killed without justification, nor the valorous nobleman he had been in life. Count Dracula, prince among vampires feared death itself. 

When revelation struck her, she had been idly nursing a glass, the donated blood of a living--and willing--participant. The sun came into her home as light shone onto the rebuilding community surrounding her. War had ravaged the streets, lives had been lost, and a mere man existed with a higher body count than Dracula could dream of. Such a foul monstrosity as Adolf Hitler feared capture, but not death, choosing instead to take his own life. 

The duffel at her side had her surname printed into it, a memento of a few years gone by, a shell-shocked world plundered into bloodshed and death. She needed to be someone for the people, a helper, a doctor who could save more lives than would be lost. And she had offered her services, providing mildly falsified documentation of her qualifications. 

Dates became tedious through the years. Medical school had been a particularly trying time in her life, a place where she learned to rid herself of all feral desire for blood. The crimson liquid so beloved by the Count had been nothing more than sustenance for her. 

With the last of the light fading behind her, Agatha stripped from her clothes, long having abandoned the shreds of modesty that remained in her and tucked them hurriedly into the duffel. The last bit of reservation slipped away with her bra. Only the ring remained as she stepped into the water.

Every step she took felt heavy, too slow, as if gravity had increased on her in a way she could not stop. Through the years, she had not lost the flavor of his blood or what she read in it, having had time to make sense of it. Agatha had turned the sensation over and over in her head for months until it had nearly driven her mad. 

Her belly twisted with an ache so familiar to her, she couldn’t help but move forward. Truth had been one reason for her return, yes. But the other was much less commendable and so very unlike the Agatha he had known years prior. Her mission had changed. Her entire life had changed on account of him, on account of his blood.

Why? 

She spotted his watery tomb and swore she felt her heart beat for the first time in half a century. He was there and she could feel him, unaware and comatose though he was. And she ran to him as if on land, personal reservations and gravity be damned. Agatha blinked slowly as she at last gazed upon his crate, untouched in the years she had been gone. No rot, no barnacles, no change. Fifty years without his touch, without hearing his voice, without his pestering and snide remarks. 

_She had missed him._

Prying the top of the crate off proved easy enough and she gasped in the water as she set her sights on him once more; just as unworldly handsome as the morning they parted. Before she had time to reach down and lift him out of the dirt, his eyes snapped open. They were red and hungry, his mouth opening to show the beast’s fangs. Then, Dracula shot up, wasting not a second to have her in his arms, his cold body pressed hers as he kissed her with painful reverence. 

‘ _Not here,_ ’ she demanded as she kissed him back and pulled away from him. The water made it near impossible to do anything properly, let alone what was the only thing on either of their minds.

‘ _How long, Agatha? How long has it been?_ ’ His inquiry, even in her mind, easily conveyed what his body had already betrayed. A low, vibrating hum sounded in her throat, somewhere teetering between human and supernatural, as he gathered her into his arms and began the walk to shore. 

‘ _Fifty years._ ’

Fifty grueling years to wait to feel his calloused hands at her skin, his furred chest against her, those coal dark eyes watching her every movement. She had dreamed of this moment, literally, for decades. Stolen moments in the shadows of her existence as she slept, she plunged into the water and was taken by him over and over, and never once did she wish for it to stop. 

‘ _I’m surprised you didn’t get here sooner,_ ’ he professed as they erupted from the water. “I expected y--” 

She knew why he stopped the moment she followed his eyes. Fifty years since feeding, of course his gaze would be drawn to the duffel. “I brought you something to eat.”

“Your voice,” he noted with scrunched brows before smiling at her, a quick peck to her lips. “Seems I’m not the only one with a taste for English cuisine.” 

She ignored his comment as she crawled out of his hold and made her way to the bag. He remained on her heels until she bent down and rummaged through the sac, pulling out a thermos of warm blood. “Here.” 

He grabbed the thermos and looked questioningly at it. “What is this?”

“Blood.”

Dracula rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “I know that. But where did it come from? Why is it no--”

The scathing glare she shot him was enough to shut him up and she had to hide the smirk that spread across her lips. He opened the lid and a deep rumble reverberated in his chest. Agatha bit at her lip as the sound caught her off-guard, tumbling down to her core, an inaudible moan leaving her mouth as a breath.

His fingers tightened around the metal as he brought the canister to his mouth and drank deep, finishing it in a single, long gulp. The manner in which he licked at the rim as the last few drops dripped into his maw reminded her of how that tongue felt between her thighs. His snarl into the open air as he savored the taste was debauched, drenched in his particular brand of devilry. He turned to her, chest heaving. “More.” 

“Impatient as ever,” she huffed as she stood, another thermos in her left hand. There was a grin on her face. “You have to work for this one.”

“Are you challenging a starved vampire?” He stalked closer to her, his eyes burning into her as his features twitched, exasperated. His hand shot out, seized her wrist, and trailed his gaze beyond the thermos, over her fingers to the pale of her knuckles..

His ring. 

“Open it,” ordered the Count as he snapped his attention back to her. She knew she had been caught but did not care. Agatha wanted him to see his ring upon her finger, wanted him to know that she had kept her word those many years ago. “Agatha.” 

He was pleading, in his own way. Her grip tightened around the metal, intentionally defying his wishes just to rile him. She missed the way her name sounded on his lips, no matter how it was spoken. 

“Agatha Van Helsing. Open it or I will tear you apart.”

_Fuck._

“Recycled lines are not befitting of you.”

She reached up, not breaking her gaze from his, and twisted the lid open. The metal of the cap clattered against the ground as she raised the thermos to his lips. He released his grip on her wrist and placed it at her waist instead, squeezing so tightly she thought he would tear right through her flesh. With his free hand, he took the canister from her, turned his head, tilted it up and finished it as quickly as the first. Blood ran down the corners of his mouth as he turned back to her, letting the container drop beside them. 

“Wasteful,” she scolded as though the depraved sight didn’t cripple her self-control. He closed the space between them, the back of his fingertips tracing her down cheek with all the tenderness in the world. Her eyelids wavered but she focused on him all the same, her chest moving for the first time in what felt like years. 

“I was planning on sharing,” he breathed softly, a growl still rumbling in his chest as he spoke. His voice was nearly inaudible, even to her and she did not have time to respond before he kissed her. Blood smudged on her face as her teeth sharpened at the scent. He was slow and delicate, taking his time to savor the way she moved perfectly with him. She sighed away from the kiss, her tongue slowly trailing up the thin lines of blood, cleaning them from him, purifying him. A satisfied breath played at her cheek when she returned to his mouth. 

“I missed you.” He ran his fingers down her arms, taking in the way her skin felt under him. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, wanting nothing more than to have him where he stood. 

‘ _I missed you, too,_ ’ she thought, only to herself, and parted from him. There was much to do and even more to discuss. While she wanted nothing more than to get their reunion out of the way, he couldn’t take her right then and there. It wasn’t the nineteenth century anymore. 

“I know,” he purred, self satisfied, as though he knew she wouldn’t speak the words aloud. “But why can’t I?”

“You promised me a bed,” remarked Agatha as she bent down to her duffel once more and pulled two towels from its seemingly never-ending depths. “Here, you need to dry off. I won’t have you ruining my car.”

“Car?” He gave a quizzical look then moved his tongue around in his mouth as he thought. “Ah, what an interesting invention. And you drive one?” 

She pointed a little ways up the embankment before she rang her coffee colored locks out, the curls damnable in her now untreated hair. He started for it, the towel wrapped tightly around his waist. As Agatha watched him, she realized the cloth barely ran to his knees. Had his legs always been so long? 

Yes. 

She thought back to the first time she set her eyes on him, only minuscule parts of her still affected by the horror of the situation. In her prolonged existence, she had seen worse crimes committed by mortal men. 

How his legs stretched out, his flaccid cock brushing against his thigh as he panted and snarled like a rabid animal, had been a display. He knew how to size himself, whether intentionally or not. Dracula had the stature of a person who knew how to wield power.

She knew him now and every action he made held a strange sense to her. Every step he took, every motion, every word, all of him made sense to her. However, her attraction to him could not be snuffed out. If anything, it pulled her closer.

Agatha shook the thought from her mind and focused on drying and dressing herself. As she was getting ready to pull her underwear a hand stopped her, ripping the garment from her body. Of course he would interrupt at the last moment, her bra and blouse already on. His hand slid down the soft curve of her rear and slipped between her legs. She instinctively pushed against him and her back arched, a muffled keening spilling into her tightly shut mouth. A woman crying out in such a time did not go as ignored as it had in the past. 

He pressed his middle finger to her entrance and easily sank into the slick warmth. She looked behind her and saw him kneel onto the earth beneath him. They couldn’t, not there, not then, but the way his finger played at her had Agatha second guessing. 

“Oh, my sweet Agatha. Already so willing for me to take you, aren’t you? Do you want me to reclaim you?” The last bit of his scorching words had her reeling. She hadn’t slept with anyone else, not even as a thought. How could she? No one could compare to him and they both knew it. He wanted to see if she would say it… 

He withdrew his finger from her, a low curse tumbling from her lips, and guided her to her knees. “Be quiet if you must, but I haven’t tasted you in half a century.”

He spread her legs and ran a hand along her spine, gently pushing her torso down to reveal his prize to him. She could feel her juices dripping into the night air and knew she should feel exposed to the world. She should, but his mouth was on her then, a growl sounding in his throat as he sucked once at her clit. The sound of their connection rang as absolute sin and she pushed tighter against him. Agatha should have denied him, made him wait, but in earnest, she was getting exactly what she wanted. 

“No one else,” she uttered as she fought to stay focused on memorizing how he felt on her. Her low cry as he probed her earned a groan from him, vibrating against her core and making her wince. “There’s been no one else.” 

“So faithful, you are,” he hummed against her clit, a smile causing his teeth to brush into her. Dracula shuffled until he was lying beneath her, head planted firmly between her legs. She glanced down, a question in her eyes that was very quickly answered when he pulled her to him. A moan crept from the depths of her throat as he flicked his tongue hard against the nub. “And you even have the ring to prove it.”

“N-no time. I was too busy to sleep with anyone else,” she lied as he shifted her down further, her core pressed directly against his mouth. “F-fu--”

‘ _Ah-ah, best watch that tongue of yours, my dear. Your precious God may be watching._ ’

She groaned, having never been one for exhibitionism and silently pleaded for him to be done with his indulgence, despite the euphoria that spread through her body. Truth be told, Agatha wanted more, wanted him, wanted everything from the way he worked between her thighs. Such a sight to behold as she looked down at him.

‘ _Not yet, remember? By your orders, we have to wait._ ’

She ground her hips into him, rocking as he turned his tongue over her clit, probed her, took her, claimed her. Her head dipped back, one hand tangled in his hair while the other grasped at his bent thigh for support. No amount of bracing could prepare her for how her body clenched around him as she fought off her orgasm. She didn’t want it to be over so soon. She wanted more, she wanted him, for eternity. But his voice, thick and low, entered her mind, imparting her ruin.

‘ _Come for me, Agatha._ ’ 

She fell around him, her hands clinging to his scalp as if she’d fall off the earth if she let go. Agatha’s legs shook and struggled to hold her up, but his hands were there at her hips to support her. Her orgasm hit her again as he greedily swept between her folds and she cried his name into the air.

Her ears rang as his grip loosened and released her, shifting under her so she was sitting on his chest. “ _Perfect._ ”

She moved so she was right against his hardened cock and wanted nothing more than to sink onto him. Her restraint was failing her, but she did not want it to happen here, not all of it. Agatha didn’t want all of England to see her undone.

“I brought a change of clothes,” she muttered down at him, unable to hide the satisfied smile fixed on her lips. He was beautiful beneath her, the corners of his mouth pulled back in a grin, a satisfied man. She had to kiss him, had to have more of him, if only for a moment.

As if reading her mind, and he probably had, Dracula pulled her down and took her lips. It was the second time she had ever tasted her own release in his kiss, but it still set her on edge. How could such depravity make her feel so complete? 

“Dress yourself. I’ll be waiting by the car,” she instructed as she sat up.

‘ _My turn,_ ’ she hummed in her head as she leaned down to give him another peck on the lips before she stood and finished dressing. Agatha looked down at her ruined underwear and picked them up along with the thermoses he felt compelled to toss wherever he pleased.

“We’ve no need to come back for your box. I already have something prepared that I think will be to your liking,” she explained as she walked by him, dropping the items into the duffel, and pretended not to see cock twitching as he brought his slacks over it. “Bring the bag with you.”

She stopped at the passenger side door and watched as he walked up the beach. The suit fit him nicely, complementing both his style and form. A sharp black three-piece that shifted easily over his body. But she couldn’t let herself get distracted by the sight of him lest she miss her window of opportunity.

“You brought soil to England for me? Agatha Van Helsing, have I found a soft spot in you?” 

“You’ve found many spots in me,” she stated matter-of-factly as he stood before her, looking her over with pride. “But enough stroking your ego, come.” 

He obeyed and watched as she opened the car door and sat inside. She beckoned him closer and her fingers made fast work of his pants. The Count stared down, impressed by the way they pooled at his ankles. She didn’t give him much time for admiration as she wrapped her fingers delicately around his shaft and placed a kiss at his cockhead. 

She shifted in the seat, moving closer to him, her tongue coming out to run the underside of his length. She heard a soft groan from above her and knew she had permission to continue. He shifted his hips as she coated his cock in her saliva, letting her tongue drip onto him until he was slick. One hand steadied his hips while the other focused on working his shaft. 

Dracula’s head tilted back as Agatha took him inch by inch into her mouth. Her lips tightened around him as she pulled her head back, careful to attend to him with her tongue as she went. He brought a hand into her half dry hair, looked down at her, and watched as she, his nun, his devout, broke him into euphoric pieces.

“What trouble that mouth of yours will get you into,” he murmured as he shifted himself deeper into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat. “Do you think you can take it all, Agatha?”

Such wicked words hit her ears and she moved the hand on his cock to his other hip. Dracula’s other hand joined atop her head, holding her steady as he slowly pushed deeper still into her mouth until her nose rubbed against his curls. 

He groaned as she moved along him, beautifully in time with the sway of his hips when he could no longer refrain from rocking into her mouth. Before either of them could realize, he pulled almost entirely from the heat of her and plunged himself back in, finding a faster, shorter pace that she could handle while she let him use her. She steadied herself, doing what she could to aid in his release as precum spilled into her mouth, coating her throat as he rolled into her. 

His hips stuttered as he came in her mouth with a low moan, his hands untangling from her brunette locks, and looked down to see her swallowing his seed. Surely she had done this before. She had to have. Agatha moved out of the seat, wiping away what remained of the mixture of cum and saliva from her mouth, and gave him a hard look as he pulled his slacks up. 

“I heard that,” she muttered as she reached for the duffel. Presumptuous bastard. “Fifty years later and still a beast.”

“Agatha, anyone who can move their mouth like that should not be a nun or anywhere near a church,” he returned and caught her in his hold. She turned her head to meet his kiss before he could initiate and smiled as he laughed against her lips. “Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.” 

“Doctor.”

He tilted his head in confusion as she moved to the other side of the car. “Doctor?”

“I’m a doctor now.” 

“Scientific or medical?” His curiosity piqued, he took the seat she had been in moments earlier. The duffel was tossed in the backseat before she started the vehicle. 

“Medical. I was a surgeon in the second world war. It ended four years ago,” she explained as she pulled away.

“Second?”

The drive into town was spent regaling tales of her time in medical school, how she feeds, and how life had changed since he slept. He had been particularly interested in the Spanish Flu and returned with tales of previous pandemics and how humans never change or learn. She found that talking to him had been the easiest conversation for her in years. And she damned herself for it.

When they returned, he grabbed the bag from the back, eyes wide in wonder as he looked around him. Electricity, cars, what a lively world the future was. He looked to her, excitement clear, and she couldn’t help but return his smile. Most of what was around them had come at a great cost, but she would not bore him with the details. 

“So this is where you live? A bit...underwhelming, don’t you think?” Dracula turned his attention to the small home before him, no lights on in the windows. “Unlimited power and you still choose modesty?” 

“Not everyone indulges in their narcissism,” she retorted, the smile diminishing from her face. The door was up the small path and she knew it was time for her first test. “But yes, this is my home.” 

She walked by him, grabbed at her house key, and unlocked the door. There was a light switch just inside and she flicked it on. Part of her chest ached as she stepped inside. Fifty years he’d been asleep. Fifty extra years, he avoided any danger. He cheated that which he so feared. 

“Agatha,” he called, a scoff sounding after her name, “aren’t you forgetting something?” 

“Oh, yes. You can set the duffel bag just inside. I have work to do.” She dared not think of what she was doing lest he listen in to her thoughts. He was still new to the world around him, she was still new to him now. 

“Are you inviting me in?” 

“That depends,” she smirked, enjoying having the upper hand on him despite the circumstances. Her arms crossed her chest as she looked at him, careful not to hold his gaze for too long as he stood, unblinking, before her. “How badly do you want to come inside?”

“Playing games, are we? I must say, you have an interesting concept of foreplay.” His words were caught between annoyance and amusement. 

No, not a game. A test. 

“Rationalize to yourself why you wouldn’t be invited in,” she commanded, his attention snapping to her as he stepped at the threshold. They held each other’s gaze, silent and unmoving for moments. She wanted him in and he knew it. Still, he did not enter.

Did he have to hear it?

“If I don’t, you are free to run amok through all of England, leaving a path of slaughter and destruction in your wake. Why would I want that?” She was pressing him now, receding a single step back into the house. Another beat of silence and she turned, walking deeper into the house. “This is my home, purchased under your name. You d--”

“What name?” he asked as he stepped inside, cutting her off, his curiosity palpable.

She turned to face him, assumptions were apparently good enough. The heaviness in her chest lifted as she set her sights on the man currently in her home without invitation.

He gawked at her in response as a smile swept across her face. “What? What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I lied.”

His brows knit in confusion, tongue turning her phrase over soundlessly as his lips parted. “No, you didn’t. You said this was my house.”

“Would the deed be sufficient as evidence?” she asked taking a step toward him, unsure of how he would respond.

“What are you doing?” His confusion melted into unrest as he turned to look at the door and then his current position. Under the assumption that this was his house, he had entered it. However, Agatha was not telling him to leave and he felt no compulsion to do so. Perhaps it was her, because their blood flowed through each other’s veins.

“I said I would wake you when I came to understand you,” she started calmly. Agatha walked to the door, closed it, and locked it before she turned back to him. “I am keeping my word.”

“Through loopholes and trickery?” he inquired with a breath of empty laughter. He did his best to mask his annoyance, still too curious to find anger relevant. “Typical Catholic.”

She ignored his insult and returned to him. “Not trickery. Logic.”

“Lying is not logical, Agatha,” returned the Count, stepping closer to her.

“It is when your fears aren’t.” 

Rip off the bandage. Get it out of the way. Move beyond it. Her desire to stake him had long since passed, but once they started a game, they had to finish. He would not be satisfied with a stalemate or a surrender.

He remained silent as he followed her through the hall and into the small kitchen. She invited him to the table, to which he refused to sit, choosing instead to lean against the counter on the other side of the room. His gaze was locked to her as his curiosity gave way to impatience. 

“I’ve learned much in my time without you. At first I continued my research through conventional means,” she began, taking up residence against the table, her palms supporting her as she leaned against it, facing him. “But I stopped after the first two years. I was discovering nothing more. Without being active, there was no way to track you, to study your movements.”

He swallowed whatever retort he had. Good, he still knew when to let her explain, even if his eyes grew darker and his jaw tightened. She wondered if he felt trapped or if he expected her to come up empty again. But that was not the deal.

She had to be certain beyond doubt, beyond second guessing.

“I became my own test subject. Your bride at the castle had not feared the cross in Harker’s recount of his time with you and that led me to think. Why would you, if goodness or holiness had nothing to do with it? Why would you fear the sun? Why would you, a man of exceptional power and pride, be confined to the shadows?”

“Agatha,” he cautioned as his form grew rigid to keep him in place. Clearly his own subject not fearing the cross had been news to him.

“Please do not interrupt. I only get to say this once.” She raised a hand to silence him and crossed the kitchen to close the space between them. Agatha did not want to draw this out longer than necessary. “I have stepped into the sunlight, into churches, and homes without invitation. I’ve wasted muted prayers to a silent god before a crucifix and need not sleep in a bed of my own soil.”

“What are you getting at?” 

“What I’m getting at, Count Dracula, is that I know you. I have tested every myth aside from driving a stake through your heart.”

“So you woke me up to what? Fuck me and then kill me?” He was changing the subject. 

“Spare me your runaround. We both know that is not the reason,” she puffed and reached up to cradle his face. “I worked as fast as I could.”

“You could have broken your word,” he muttered as he leaned into her touch. Why was she being so gentle? She had a task and dropped her hand, retraining her focus. He did the same, knowing that his distraction had not worked. “Continue, since you’re such a persistent little thing.”

“You fear the idea of living but are without the courage to die. You’ve lost your ability to sacrifice yourself for ano--”

He grabbed her hips then, squeezing them painfully as he spun them around, setting her on the counter. She was close to the truth now and both knew it. He stared at her, silent and unmoving for nearly a minute. “One more word, Agatha. One more word and I swear I will burn England to the ground.”

“Someone tried that already,” she replied, her voice as level as it had been so long ago. “You’re a slave to your own fears. Too afraid to die, too afraid to live. Killing, feasting, and festering in the shadows when there’s been no need for the last four hundred and fifty years. You’ve convinced yourself that your habits are the laws by which you must live.”

He released his hold on her and took a step back, unsure of which way to move. She could tell he wanted to tear her apart, wanted to raze her house to dust with her along with it. It had been so long since she had seen that animal glint in his eye, that lust for destruction. A vampire’s version of a temper tantrum. 

But he did not move. He only stood in the middle of her kitchen, staring at her. 

“I considered waking you in the middle of the day,” she started as she slid from the counter. “But I figured that would be too much of a shock to your system. Having you come into my home of your own free will seemed much more practical.”

“No one, in over four hundred years, has had the audacity to speak to me that way.” Dracula finally broke silence, acting as though he had not heard her last statement. His words were as heavy as lead. “What makes you so sure of yourself?”

“It’s not me you’re doubting, Count.” Her words carried the excess compassion she had not been able to convey in her earlier lecture. Even in her success, her coveted prize made her feel unclean. But she would not break her word and despite his earlier suggestion, he would have been disappointed in her if she had. 

“The ring,” he spoke softly, nearly a whisper, not meeting her eye. “Why have you kept it?”

The question caught her off guard, stunning her into the silence that he had been in moments earlier. Her mouth opened but no sound made its escape, no words, no explanation. Nothing. Silence. How could she tell him? How could she tell that she had tasted his devotion when her teeth sank into him? How could she tell him that she returned it with equal measure without compromising herself? 

How, indeed. 

“Agatha.” He was waiting for a response, for her to blink, to breathe, to show any stupid little habits that she had so infuriatingly made sure to cling to. But their eyes finally met and she could see her own trepidation caught in his gaze. “You can’t answer me, can you?”

She swallowed then and took a breath. One challenge after the other. Is that all they were to each other? It reminded her of a musical she had heard of in passing. 

_Anything you can do...I can do better._

“Sentimental value, I suppose,” she tested her voice.

“And what, exactly, would that sentiment be, _Doctor_ Van Helsing?” His eyes narrowed as he stepped closer to her. They were fully clothed and yet she felt bare under his gaze. Stripped to nothing but her consciousness that resided where even she could not see. 

She could not say it. 

She must not.

“Because of this ring I was able to start my unconventional life.” She chose her words carefully. “I owe you a great de--”

A curt sigh cut her off as he shook his head, stalking closer to her. Too close for her comfort. The scent of the sea reminded her that he had been awake for no longer than an hour, two at most.

“No. Tell me plainly. _Spare me the runaround, as you say._ ” A beat of silence before he persisted. “Agatha…”

Despite her better judgment, she glanced up to read his expression and felt that familiar hum in her blood, the same tender note that had rang in him that night. There was no demanding glare, no snarl, nothing etched into his face that would give her reason to reject him. His features were unreadable, save those infinitely dark eyes. In them, her resolve broke.

“You are a part of me, Count Dracula, for as long as I shall live.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you thought I wasn't going to write Agatha sitting on her man's face, I have news for you. I most definitely was and did.


End file.
